


Opportunity Taps

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Butt, Humor, M/M, Silly, Steve POV, meddling avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 02:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20074819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: Written for an anon on tumblr, who requested: “is tony’s bubble butt a writing prompt?” Yes, it is.Steve is distracted by Tony's butt. Thor, Bruce and Natasha help.





	Opportunity Taps

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Хватай момент](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22751236) by [littledoctor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledoctor/pseuds/littledoctor)

Tony’s pants are particularly tight today.

To be true, Tony’s wardrobe tends to err on the side of well-fitted, but today it seems more egregious than most. He’s in dark slacks, made of a soft, quasi-shiny material Steve associates with glossy magazines’ unrelatable idea of office-wear. The cut is fitting to begin with, but he’s currently standing with his hands in his pockets, and the push of his hands into the material have drawn it tighter around the comely shape peeking out from under the hem of his jacket. It’s like the long lines of Tony’s legs are arrows pointing up, up, _here_.

It’s not even as if Tony’s butt is the most inarguably attractive part of him. There’s a lot vying for that top spot – his eyes, his smile, his hands, the deft way he navigates conversation oftentimes saying absolutely nothing while getting everything he needs. Among others.

But, the butt. Tony’s butt.

Well-proportioned. Well-shaped. Curving solid and firm, but soft at the same time. Golden ratio glorious, and currently tipped provocatively as he shifts his weight onto one foot during whatever discussion he’s having with Natasha across the room. And this is only in still form; Tony hasn’t even started walking yet, where every piece of floor is a red carpet, and every entrance is a production.

Steve’s tended to think himself as more of a leg man. Pins are nice – all that strength and curvature along the calves – but once he started noticing Tony’s ass, it’s kind of been… well.

Most of the time it’s a good distraction. On a tough day, it’s good to have something nice to look at, like a pick-me-up. Such as when Steve’s battered and bruised post-mission, it’s nice to look over at Tony’s stepping out of the Iron Man suit and wonder if Steve’s palms are big enough to heft both cheeks at once. (Current guess is, probably not.)

Other times, it’s a bad distraction. Like now, when they’re having evening drinks in the tower and Steve’s at the bar in an actual conversation with Thor and Bruce that he’d lost track of a couple of minutes ago. Thor has been saying something.

“Captain,” Thor says.

“Yeah?” Steve says.

“I said,” Thor says, almost gently, “do you want to touch it?”

Steve blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

Thor leans in, his voice in a conspiratory whisper: “Stark’s butt. You’d like to touch it, yes?”

“I—” Steve’s face heats up in mild terror, but Thor is just grinning and Bruce is nursing a drink with a vaguely distant expression. Steve swallows. “That’s not—”

“Come now, there’s no shame in it,” Thor says good-naturedly. “Stark’s butt is very fine. Like a ripe—”

“Please, no,” Bruce says.

“You disagree?” Thor says.

“Oh, no,” Bruce says, “I agree that Steve wants to touch… that.”

A laugh startles out of Steve, partly out of panic and partly in disbelief. “I’m not…” The half-hearted denial fades away, because this is Thor and Bruce, who are not doing much more than looking at him, smiling and… kind? Steve finds himself relaxing, which is a mistake. “Is it that obvious?”

“You look like you want to, forgive the parlance, _eat it_,” Bruce says.

Thor laughs. “Very much so.”

Steve winces. “Can Tony tell?”

“Who knows?” Bruce says with a shrug. “Tony sees what he wants to see, sometimes.”

“Before anything else, there must be an introduction,” Thor declares. “’Tis easy. Follow my lead, Captain.”

That statement is sometimes promising, and other times cause for terror. Today is the second, because Thor now pushes himself away from the bar, all six foot plus of Asgardian prince who cannot be stopped, and marches across the floor to where Tony and Natasha are still deep in gossip.

Thor walks towards Tony, arms swinging. Natasha sees him approach and acknowledge it with a tip of her head, though her convo with Tony only pauses when Thor’s arm swings out, palm out, and makes contact with Tony’s ass.

A smack, light and friendly. No big deal. (Tony’s right cheek ripples at the contact, and Steve is too agonizingly far to hear the sound it makes.) Tony turns to raise an eyebrow at Thor, but he doesn’t even flinch. Steve can’t hear what Tony says over the noise, but he reads, “_Nice to see you, too,_” on Tony’s lips.

Thor says something in return and wanders off, seemingly off to the bathroom.

Just like that.

_Just like that._

“Wow,” Steve says. He looks at Bruce, who bobs a fist in the air supportively.

“Carpe gluteus?” Bruce says.

There are a great many factors that could be blamed here. The atmosphere of the evening is easy, comfortable. They’re all still basking in the high of a successful mission. Steve is still reeling from the fact that Thor and Bruce are immediately _fine_ and _understanding_ about Steve’s… attentions… which is more than he’d hoped for. So why not.

Why not?

Steve mirrors Thor’s movement of pushing himself away from the bar. There’s a chanting in his head as he starts walking – _it’s fine, it’s friendly, there’s nothing more to be read out of it, Thor could do it_ – which only stutters when Natasha looks up and sees him approach.

For a second Steve’s steps are about to falter, but Natasha’s expression doesn’t change; she merely turns back to Tony and keeps talking, and that if nothing else convinces Steve on the right track and everything will be fine.

Steve drops an arm out by his side. As soon as he’s close enough to smell Tony’s cologne, he sweeps it up into – _contact._

There’s a smack of skin against skin. Tony’s butt – geez. It _wobbles_. It’s squishy but resilient, and bobs back against Steve’s palm, warm and firm but also soft and supple: an improbable mix of traits all mixed up in each other, just like its owner.

Tony is looking up at him.

Steve realizes, after a second or maybe a handful of seconds, that he didn’t just smack Tony’s ass. He’d smacked and… stayed. His hand is still there. His fingers are curled a little, measuring the strong curve underneath them. He was right; a single buttcheek cannot fit in his palm. It’s – it’s _lovely._

It’s up to Tony to speak first. “You want to keep doing that, you need to take me out to dinner.”

“Tomorrow at seven okay?” Steve blurts out.

Tony blinks. “What?”

“Uh.” Steve stills. “Oh. Hmm.”

“He’s free,” Natasha says.

“What?” Tony says again.

“Oh god.” Steve realizes he’s _still_ touching Tony, and quickly removes his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Tony’s still blinking in a daze. “Are you?”

“_Yes_,” Steve says.

“Tomorrow at seven,” Natasha says. “I heard that. I’m a witness.”

“Wow,” Tony says, staring at Steve. “I did not know you could look that red.”

“Yes, well,” Steve says, mouth running on without him, “there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Tony’s still staring. “Apparently so. Was that, um. Was that for real? Tomorrow?”

“Obviously,” Steve says, with more gumption that he actually feels.

“Okay,” Tony says, nodding slowly. “Tomorrow.”

“Good,” Steve says.

“Excellent,” Tony says.

“Exit stage right, Steve,” Natasha says quietly.

“Okay.” Steve nods, and resists a ridiculous urge to salute. He starts to move away in desperate search for the relief of an exit, only to suddenly feel a light slap on his own ass – off-center from the left cheek, quick and clumsy and unmistakable. He slowly turns back, to where Tony’s quickly shoving both his hands deep into his pockets.

Tony clears his throat. “Just, you know. Keeping things fair.”

Steve finds himself smiling, and said smile grows when Tony grins in return. “I do like things being fair,” Steve says.

**Author's Note:**

> [Also on tumblr!](https://no-gorms.tumblr.com/post/186712437456/is-tonys-bubble-butt-a-writing-prompt-because-i)


End file.
